


an Innocent Piece of Paper: What Does 'Intimate Intercourse' Mean?

by worddumb



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: (not explicit) - Freeform, Attempt at Humor, Dream just can't help gaslighting people, Gen, Oh that's right, Sexual Humor, Wilbur Soot is a siren, and phil is not involved sooo, anyways! final tag!, as far as i'm aware so feel free to correct me, based on online personas, edit: just realised i lost all audiences i could've possibly had with these tags, even though gaslighting is more Wilbur's style, if you wanna read this as two dumbasses flirting you're welcome to, neither of them expressed discomfort with that sort of thing, no i will not explain, or apologize, uuuuh what else before i add my Final Tag, which is plot relevant for all of three seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29731329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worddumb/pseuds/worddumb
Summary: Wilbur, crumpling it: Bitch, who told you I can read
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	an Innocent Piece of Paper: What Does 'Intimate Intercourse' Mean?

**Author's Note:**

> the entire premise of this work is Wilbur Soot being stupid and I just love that for me 
> 
> anyways public service announcement: did ya know you can leave a kudo and a comment even if you don't have an account wink wink nudge nudge and did you know ao3 authors will be indebted to you forever if you bump those meaningless numbers up wink wink wink nudge nudge nudge 
> 
> if you comment you basically own our souls, I don't make the rules 
> 
> public service announcement over, anyways times two I swear my next work will be better quality I swear upon my mother, this was written from a pov of an illiterate person what do you want from me (/joke) (but not really) (enjoy!! <333)

“Wow, you sure know a lot of words for someone who became a fish when they were like, three.” 

Dream is sitting in front of him, grinning. Something about the number he says doesn’t sound right, so Wilbur takes out a hand, extending one finger, second, and third. Yeah, it’s definitely too little, so he extends one more, and the big one; five. He was five when he became a fish. And Phil had said people always turned into sirens when they were five, on their fifth birth-day? He’s not too sure on that one, but he still extends his hand in front of Dream’s face: “I was five, actually.” 

“Those are the same thing.” 

If he knew any less math than he does, Wilbur would have believed that especially with the stupid, condescending smile-giggle Dream adds on, but as such he can count to ten. 

“Hey look, I might not be able to read but I’m not stupid. I know five and three are two apart, I can do a little bit of addition.”    
“Wow, that’s really impressive of you.” 

“Oh shut up, I could kill everyone in this room if I tried hard enough.” 

Dream’s bastard smile stretches wider, so he leans on the table to support it: “Maybe, but I bet you don’t know what ‘intimate intercourse’ means.” 

“I know what ‘intimate’ means! It means ‘close’ and shit, like nice-close? Sweet. Yeah, one of those-”- “No, no it doesn’t.” 

Wilbur squints at him. 

“You’re gaslighting me,”- “How do you know what ‘gaslighting’ means but not ‘intimate’?”- Dream still sounds so smug it’s stupid- “You’re gaslighting me, because I hugged Techno once and he said he hates intimacy. Also something about ‘boundaries’, that too, but I didn’t really listen.” 

His confession stuns Dream into silence for a second, processing. “Yeah, that sounds like him. You still have no idea what ‘intercourse’ means though, cause you live with a bunch of vi- with idiots.” 

“Shut up, Dream-”- from the other side of the hold, Phil calls much like Wilbur would in the wild. Next time he complains about Wilbur being loud Wil’s just gonna scream louder to remind him of this beautiful moment- “-he knows more than you about it.” 

“How can he, he’s a fish,”- still confident, Dream births the desire to slap him. Knowing from experience that slapping his mask hurts, Wilbur just smacks a palm on it: “I may not know what this is about, but Phil’s  _ always  _ right so, I do.” 

“You may not know a lot of things, you’re a fish,"- pure mockery and not much else, Dream’s toying with him like he would toy with prey. Wilbur pushes on the mask: “I may not, but I may control the winds next time you decide to play with those little friends of yours. I’m very powerful, you would do well to remember that.” 

“Woah woah, mister power fantasy-”- swatting his hand away, Dream clicks a tongue at him- “-careful, or I might get a wrong idea,”- tell-tale stluttiness enters his voice. Sultriness? Whatever word pretentious assholes use to cover up quote-unquote sin and sound smart: “Excuse me, mister head in the gutter, I would never wanna fuck you. Do you ever shower after those manhunts?” 

“I assure you he doesn’t,”- Dream almost jumps at Phil’s words, much closer than he was just a few moments ago. “Yeah? And how would you know, old man?”- smugness, however, doesn’t leave his voice, now mixed with apprehensiveness at least. Phil leans onto the table. 

“Well, you’re not denying it, for one.” 

“Oh screw you.” 

“See, this is exactly what I mean, that is my father you’re talking about, you disgusting man,”- look, Wilbur just can’t pass the opportunity. Plus, it’s a free reason to hug Philza, and as such must be exploited, absolutely wrung dry; with that thought, Wilbur pulls the not-struggling Phil into an embrace, tight enough where there’d be no way he breaks out even if he was. 

“He’s not your dad, he’s too young for that,”- the pure bastardry is back, once again incredibly stupid if with a cute little note of timidness. 

“Wait, am I old or young? Iiii don’t follow,”- Phil’s bastardry, on the other hand, is nothing but playful, skinning Dream alive with the nit-pick. Even if Dream doesn’t look particularly skinned. Excited for Phil’s calmness regardless of whether or not a green-ass-bastard is impressed, Wil hums with his whole throat and receives a smack: “How many times do I have to tell you not to do that in front of me, God,”- contrary to his scolding words, Dream still sounds smug and mischievous- “I’m sensitive.” 

Pouting at the frankly rude everything, Wilbur frees up his hold on Phil to smack right back: “Sensitive my ass, pissboy. You’re just jealous cause I just caused a great disturbing with my bare throat and you could never.” 

“It’s ‘disturbance’. Also, I’m sure you can do a lot of things with that throat-”- it’s Phil who smacks Dream this time. “Don’t you talk about my son like that.” 

“He’s not your son! And he only ever wears like, literal underwear, what’s up with that?”- Dream honest to all that is good grabs at Wilbur’s skirt. Short and ending with a flick, it’s a clear demonstration of nothing but disrespect; disgusted, revolted, even, Wilbur leans further into Phil and bares his teeth, a notion Dream’s smug little smile only widens at. Bastard. 

Not satisfied with being the most insufferable motherfucker in the room, Dream then proceeds to feel the skirt, grabbing yet another, gentler fistful: “No but really, this is like, practically see-through, how could I not talk about him like that?”- at his mockery, Wilbur rips at the skirt, yanking it out of his hold and hiding behind Phil. Peeks out a little tongue, mocking right back. If Dream can play this game, then so can he, and by god he’ll make that everyone else’s problem: “Phil help, he’s being mean to me,”- specifically, Phil’s. He’d packed enough protect-me-pitifulness into the words it would read even on deck, though, so maybe not just Phil’s. Eh, curse his siren powers or whatever. 

“Are you seriously gonna slut-shame a fish?”- nodding along with Phil’s words, Wil once again peeks out his tongue, careful not to bite it off again. Dream responds in kind, arms now crossed and looking stupid. 

Done with their little display, Dream turns back to Phil: “How can I not, he is a slut! It’s a miracle he doesn’t know what ‘intercourse’ means, really,”- he smirks up at Wilbur in an infuriating smug snarl. Snarling back on instinct, it takes Wil a couple of seconds to process the words: ‘intercourse’ has something to do with being a slut. It can be close and intimate. Wait. 

Phil’s been talking in the background, something light and playful about not judging people by appearances, but Wilbur doesn’t care. Looking back to Dream, they both know the game is up now; he loosens away from Phil, leaning onto the table in the mirror of Dream’s smug ass. 

“Oh, I do know what ‘intercourse’ means actually. Sorry, Phil.” 

“It’s nothing, I know I’ve been a bad, bad father.” 

In front of them, Dream inches closer to Wilbur’s face, his stupid, blunt human teeth showing through the unbelievable smug smile he doesn’t deserve: “Oh? And what does it mean, fishy-boy?” 

Not backing down, Wilbur shows off his shark teeth: “It means Fuck.” 

~~~Cut to black~~~ 


End file.
